Menel
by IllegalSmugglers
Summary: After the War of the Ring, Aragorn, Eowyn, and Faramir still deal with the results: a bastard child, a mistake. But is she a person, or just a mark of shame?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: We do not own anything.  
  
Note: This story is inspired by the humor story "Darling, Why Does Our Child Look Like a Ranger?", but this is angst. It is written by two people, so you will notice the writing style changes chapter by chapter. Menel is the daughter of Eowyn and Aragorn, and Faramir knows. She is five in this chapter. It is from Menel's perspective.  
  
*****  
  
I don't understand it. Whenever daddy looks at me, he tells me he loves me, but I know it isn't true. I can see the hate in his eyes, and I have felt him shudder when he touches me. But it isn't ME that bothers him. It is something else, I am sure, something I didn't have control over.  
  
Sometimes, especially after he drinks or smokes, daddy gets very angry, and he screams. One time, he slapped me, and called me a bastard child. I don't know what it means, but I know it is bad. And then I start crying. I am only five, and I don't know what I did wrong. And then daddy stops screaming and hugs me for a long, long time.  
  
So I asked mommy what a "bastard" meant. It didn't work too well.  
  
  
  
"Faramir! You know it was a mistake! I was foolish! Don't blame it on the child!" she screamed, crying. She hadn't answered either. Daddy was crying, too. "I try to look at her, but whenever I see Menel, I do not see an innocent child. I only see what she was born of. And that is what I curse." Mommy bit her lip, and then picked me up and hugged me.  
  
  
  
"Look at her. She doesn't have a clue what is going on." I looked up at mommy. She knew how I felt, but she wasn't about to tell me why daddy hated me. I hadn't done anything wrong.  
  
"Daddy? Am I a bad girl?" I asked, crying. I must have done something very bad. But I couldn't figure out what. It wasn't that book I tore, I'm sure. I think it is something someone else did.  
  
Daddy smiled. "No, you are not. You are good, and I love you very much." He lies. I can see it in his eyes as plain as day. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: We do not own any of it.  
  
Earth Faery: Well, she was a bit too young for any other names, and couldn't say "Ada" because she is not an Elf. She stops saying "daddy" in this chapter, though.  
  
Person who left the name box blank: That's a sort of complement, I suppose. . .  
  
Kikari: Were you crying? I was, when Gollum put up that chapter. Don't worry, eventually things will get better for Menel.  
  
*****  
  
My eyes remained half-opened, my head lolling to the side. I could see the gray light of the setting sun filtering in through my window. Cold sweat ran down my neck and arms. This was an old nightmare, that time when I asked Mother what "bastard" means. I never did learn. Sometimes I tell myself that it was only a dream, it never happened--but that cannot be so.  
  
People look at me. I see things in their eyes, just like I saw Father's hate from a young age. When Mother looks at me, I see empathy, pity, love-- yes, I am sure Mother loves me, but also shame. I am a badge of shame for her and Father, I can see it in their eyes. Many who see me on the streets, or even servants in my home, look at me with pity, as if they wish they could help but know they cannot. When Queen Arwen looks at me, I feel like she wants to kill me, but also that she pities me. Why all this pity?  
  
It makes me want to scream at times. When I ask people about it, about the big secret I know they're hiding, about the glances of pity, they deny it. Father never got any different around me. He hardly ever touches me, never without shuddering, and I cannot remember a time when he hugged me, except that time he slapped me. When he drinks, I make a point of staying away--I lock the door to my room, I go out for long walks, I visit with Eldarion. I hear them fight, sometimes, always about me. No matter how hard I try to please him, I have come to see, factors I cannot control rule over him.  
  
I look nothing like my father, and that possibly increases his hate of me. To his light brown hair and green eyes, my hair is blonde and my eyes are gray. While he is short I am considered tall, nearly taller than he is. It is difficult to see the relation between us.  
  
Sitting up, I saw through groggy eyes my friend. His dark hair flopped over his gray eyes--the same grey that I see in my in the mirror. A look of concern adorned his face. "Are you all right?" he asked.  
  
"I'm fine," I assured him. "I was just having an old nightmare. How long was I asleep? I'm sorry, it's terribly rude of me--"  
  
"You asked first, remember? I told you it was just fine that you took a nap, you do not need to be formal with me. It's been about an hour. What did you dream of, Menel?" Though he is a few months younger than me--I was born late, he early, so we are quite close in age--he is tall and though I am as well, we are the same height. People sometimes mistake us for twins, and his little twin siblings find this very fascinating.  
  
"Nothing of importance, Eldarion," I told him. He knew I was lying, but turned to watch Aralya, his small sister, who was on the floor reading. She sang softly in Elvish, a language I knew nothing of. "Eldarion, what is. . .what is a mistake?" He understood that I did not mean an accident.  
  
"One of my uncles says that a mistake is something we're too frightened to do on our own, or too unwilling, or too unknowing, but it was meant to happen." His words sounded as if he knew what I spoke of.  
  
"And what. . ." I was nervous now, though comfortable asking Eldarion anything. He knew more than I, as he was far more interested in his studies and his parents did not shelter him as mine did me. "What is a bastard?" I asked quietly.  
  
"A very rude name."  
  
"Is that what it means. . .when a parents says it to a child?"  
  
Deep pity has seeded in the eyes that turn to look at me. "Have your parents called you--"  
  
"No, no!" I lied quickly.  
  
"It means a child, usually a boy, with no father," he whispered, now frightened himself. It is difficult to say exactly what frightened us. Perhaps it was the silence, and perhaps it was the thought of what these things could mean. Either way, both of us trembled.  
  
"Ada!" Eldarion and I were interrupted by Aralya's cry. She jumped up and ran to Aragorn, who had just come in. Aralya hugged him tightly. She was only five years old, the same age as my earliest memories--none of which were anything like that. Aragorn laughed, and knelt so that he could look directly into Aralya's eyes. He always speaks to people like that. "You haven't been to much trouble for Eldarion, have you?"  
  
"I've been just awful!" Aralya said happily. Eldarion was supposed to be looking after Aralya. The two had come with their father, who was discussing some sort of political thing with my father. Aragorn smiled at Aralya. His eyes held some warmth which it seems every father's eyes should hold upon seeing their daughter so gleefully happy. I have never once seen that look in my father's eyes.  
  
"I'm sure you've been a very good girl," Aragorn said, kissing Aralya's forehead. She squirmed, not knowing just how lucky she was that he didn't shudder.  
  
I cried when Eldarion left. It was not because he had gone, indeed I knew I would see him again very soon. I cried for the scene I had witnessed between Aralya and Aragorn. My head buried in a pillow, I sobbed, hiccuping. Crying gracefully is not my forte, although I have cried myself to sleep on countless nights in my life.  
  
From beneath the pillow I held over my head, I heard the door creak open and shut again. Quickly I relaxed my hands and feigned sleep. Who was in my room? I wondered. Whoever it was walked, then stopped and knelt beside the bed. I felt delicate hands move the pillow off my head, and sift through my hair, brushing it away from my face. "Oh, Menel. Are you awake, Menel?" I said nothing.  
  
Mother? What was wrong? I had done nothing wrong, absolutely nothing. Was she all right? She sounded upset. "I wish things could have been better for you," she whispered, thinking I was asleep. "I wish I had not made the mistakes I made back in Rohan. Do not think harshly of me or of him." What did this mean? I had no idea, but was determined to find out. Could the information be found here? Could it only be found in Rohan? It did not matter. I had to know.  
  
*****  
  
Before I had a chance to set out on my quest, or even think it through, it was over. It was the evening after Mother had come to speak to me. I had not left my room, unsure of where to go and what to do. Mostly I slept. As the sun set again, I slipped out as silently as possible to find Father. He was drinking again. My plan was to sneak into his office while he was distracted, but he saw me.  
  
"Menel? Menel, come in. You have no need to be afraid, come," he said, and much as I did not want to, I did. As I approached him I could tell how drunk he was. Slowly, I reminded myself that anything he said was just the alcohol talking. "Do you think I have an active role in your life? Your mother seems to think--"  
  
"Of course you do," I said. I hate myself at times like those. Even though he would be drunk or angry, any time my father called on me to answer I said just what he wanted. Above all else, I wanted his approval. Why was that so difficult for him to give? Why, no matter how much I lied and placated him, did he never seem to see me? "You--you just have other things to do."  
  
"Good, then you understand." He had more to say, but was cut off as Mother entered.  
  
"Menel, run off for a while, will you?" she whispered. I nodded, ducking out the door. However, instead of running off, I stood outside, eavesdropping. "She is suspicious, Faramir, and you know it."  
  
"Then we shall just have to end that suspicion," he answered simply. I was frightened and wanted to turn away, but stayed in petrifying fear.  
  
"What are you implying?" she seemed to know exactly what but not want to believe it.  
  
"Either we will send her away, somewhere far away, or else. . ."  
  
"Faramir!" she gasped. "You mean to kill our daughter?"  
  
"She was never mine, Eowyn. I have felt the shame of her presence for thirteen years, I will have it no longer."  
  
"The child is innocent!" Mother exclaimed.  
  
"Would you die in her place?" he demanded to know. I was shaking. Surely Mother would stand up for me, she would not let this sort of thing go on! When she answered him, her voice sounded strained and weaker than I had ever heard it.  
  
"Send her away."  
  
I turned and ran. My father was once a man of honor, so they say. By they, I mean Mother, Aragorn, and the others old enough to recall. They never say what happened to change that, they never say. I knew then. I had caused the change. I was not his child. He felt deep shame for what Mother had done-- was she my mother? Now he was hardened by drink and emotions unbidden. Who could blame him? I had caused it all. But I did not deserve death for what I had done.  
  
In a park where children often play, I fell to my knees. It was nearly dark, and no one else was there. The usual yelling children had all been called home to their parents. Who were my parents? I had none, I was not a person but a badge of shame. What if I went back? Would Father--Faramir, would Faramir send me away, or would he just kill me?  
  
Finding a sheltered enough area in the thickest bushes, I curled up to sleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Was that too. . .something? Too lacking? Too fast? Too melodramatic? Maybe I should re-work it. Any opinions?  
  
Oh, and Gollum, when you write the next chapter, you could write a flash- back, more of her childhood if you want. If not, then it's up to you what she does the next morning. Can't wait for your post!  
  
~Estel 


	3. Departure

Note:  
  
If you review, please review the STORY. Don't just read this to say how we butchered your favorite character, or we broke the laws of The Canon Police. Read the STORY please, or don't review Reviewing us or our slightly off factoids is called flaming, and if you wish to do this I suggest you read the note posted by JediKnightBalthasar concerning flamers (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1102316&chapter=4) Also, how exactly well do you think you could stand bearing a mark of shame for thirteen years, hm? And what sort of drunk are YOU?  
  
  
  
  
  
Agh!! Estel, how could you do this to me?? Now I have to write a chapter that won't look too bad by comparison to yours - impossible!! Readers (and hopefully reviewers) um, well, so far, I wrote the first chapter, and Estel wrote the second. Now it's my urn to write the third, and I'll try my best, but it probably won't be as good as Estel's. (The angst I usually write is Smeagol angst....)  
  
  
  
Very important note to all: Who knows about Menel's parents? This is what we decided: Eowyn lied to Aragorn and told him the child was a stillborn (born dead for any of you more ignorant than I), but Eowyn felt guilty and told Faramir, and word leaked out to the citizens of Gondor, but it was all hush-hush (to put it in Balthasar's terms). Bit Aragorn is still blissfully unaware his son's friend is his daughter. Happy, ain't it?  
  
  
  
I'm sorry I'm not responding to reviews, but there were so many!! Thanks everyone for reviewing though!!  
  
  
  
  
  
Oh what dreams of pain I was tortured with! My heart felt as though it was bleeding, and I though there could be nothing better than to die, and free my "father" of his shame. But so selfish was I, I did not want yet to die. I did not feel as though my time had come.  
  
  
  
When I had picked the courage to do so, I left the protection of my bush, my skin scratched by the thorns and brambles that were still entangled in my hair. The sun was begin to peak over the horizon, and several children were coming out to play. I closed my mind the to the rest of the world, and went into my own room, and locked the door.  
  
  
  
If course, a lock wouldn't do much against the one who has the key, now would it? I was afraid my father would still be angry, and would do something rash. My fear was realized.  
  
  
  
A heavy knocking came at my door. "Menel, let me in." It was father. And by the tone of his voice, he was, again, drunk. I shivered, and my mind curled at the thought of what he might do in this state.  
  
  
  
"Father, I'm getting dressed." I lied.  
  
  
  
"Let me come in!" he said, raising his voice.  
  
  
  
I didn't answer, but I began to brace the door with several heavy objects, silently cursing that my room was so far from anyone else's-no one would hear me shriek, and if they did, it might be too late.  
  
  
  
Then, Faramir began jamming himself in attempt to open the door. "Bastard- child!" he shrieked, "Let me in, or I'll rip apart your door with my very hands!"  
  
  
  
I thought about climbing out the window, but it was much too high, and these dizzying heights scared me, especially when the sun was just rising, and everything was still dark.  
  
  
  
The door crashed open.  
  
  
  
"Father" had a mad look in his eyes, and a smile that sent shivers by my back. It was too late when I realized he has carrying a knife in his hand.  
  
  
  
"Father!" I shrieked, "You don't know what you're doing!"  
  
  
  
"Something I should have done long ago." (A/N Sorry for that old cliché line, but it fit in) he replied, slowly advancing, brandishing the knife.  
  
  
  
In a sudden burst of desperation, I flung myself at him, and hugged him, hoping to sooth him back to the correct frame of mind. Hot tears burnt my cheeks, and he looked down in surprise, but he dropped the knife.  
  
  
  
"Father! What makes you hate me so? I love you so much!" I said, hugging him, bringing him to his senses.  
  
  
  
He hugged me back, and sat on my bed. "Nothing-nothing. I love you, you know that." But even as he spoke these lying words, I could feel a faint shudder as he touched me. His eyes held sorrow, but not sorrow for me. I knew to Faramir I was not a person. I was no more than a token.  
  
  
  
A token of shame that could be tossed away without a second thought.  
  
And, it hurt, as I was ready to be off, away from my home, when my father hugged me, and he didn't shudder, but there was a relaxation....relief. Relief I was out of his life. My heart had been shredded.  
  
Mother hugged me, and I mounted my horse, following Eldarion, who was escorting me to my new home. So depressed was I, I had forgotten of the name of the place I was going...but Eldarion had been there before.  
  
In the distance, I watched my home grow smaller and smaller. It's white turrets blending into the sky behind it, and the happy flags disappearing. And I wondered if I would ever see home again...  
  
  
  
I'm sorry that chapter was so short!! But was it good? Even a little? 


	4. Chapter 4

Menel, Chapter Four  
  
"I felt as if he knew me in all my dark despair,  
  
And then he looked right through me as if I wasn't there."  
  
~Roberta Flack, Killing Me Softly  
  
"And when the stars threw down their spears. . ."  
  
~William Blake, the Tyger  
  
Answering reviews:  
  
Alexis: Well, yes it hardly seems like something Aragorn would have done, but then, everyone falters at some point. No one's perfect.  
  
EarthFairy: Aragorn does like Menel. He doesn't know that she's his daughter, though.  
  
Anonymous: That was Faramir. Aragorn doesn't know.  
  
Kikari: Don't worry, Faramir and Menel are both in for some serious changes.  
  
Ithilwen: Thanks. Yay, someone liked my chapter!  
  
Kawaii Bluebear: Yikes! Calm down, I promise to make things at least slightly better. Maybe change her outlook a bit, don't know quite yet.  
  
Miriel Sakamoto: While it may take some time, things will look up.  
  
Aragorn Elessar: We're always open to suggestions! Glad you liked it.  
  
Acacia Jules: I don't know what will happen, but let's hope Aragorn and Faramir don't agree. . .that would not be good.  
  
Iarhyn: No, he probably would not have. But WHAT IF he did? That's what this story is about.  
  
Luna: Thanks! And your English is fine, better than most, in fact.  
  
Branwen: I fail to see how eye colour is a major liberty. Seriously, this is a story, not a regurgitation of fact. If you can't point out a discrepancy without that nasty manner, why not just leave off reviewing? Writers and researchers are different. Just check your dictionary.  
  
Asia: He's not the bad guy. He's just a bit upset. After all, alcohol can really change someone's manner.  
  
Smeagol's Preciousss: Thanks.  
  
Firelien: If for years you had dealt with major shame, what would YOUR reaction be? As far as this story goes, we're being pretty nice to Faramir.  
  
Eryn Lasgalen: Thanks a lot. As for the flamers reference. . .hehe, I wrote that.  
  
Enedilwen: Thanks! And good luck with yours.  
  
Xel: Menel is Aragorn and Eowyn's daughter, and Aralya and Eldarion are Aragorn and Arwen's children. That was not the end. Eldarion and Menel are about the same age, I think we agreed on fifteen.  
  
Jedi Knight 666: Maybe, you'll see, maybe. Isn't waiting terrible?  
  
*****  
  
"Eldarion, why are you stopping?" I asked. We had been told to ride until nightfall, still perhaps one half hour away, but Eldarion had dismounted and motioned for me to do the same. He offered his hand to help me down, and I took it, confused.  
  
"Your decision," he said, half-snorted. "My father was right about you," he added, though his back was to me as he walked over to his horse. My shoulders slumped. Great, the one person who had never looked on me with pity, who had always been nice, had now decided to turn himself and my best friend against me. "He told me, when I was readying my things for the trip," Eldarion continued, "he said, 'There's something not right about all this, Eldarion. This is not, as Faramir claims, Menel's decision'. At first, I didn't believe him. I respect my elders, as I've been taught. But then I saw your face. . ."  
  
"This is my decision," I argued, the line my parents had told me to use. "I want to do this."  
  
"Sure. Where are we going, again?" He asked. I blanked. He nodded. "Thought so. I am no-one's pawn, Menel. Either you tell me what's going on or you don't, but until I know the truth I shall go no further." The way his feet and jaw were set, I knew his words were true.  
  
What could I do? I could hardly bare to think of the truth, let alone to talk about it. What lies could I tell? I was not good at lying, and Eldarion would see right through me. "I am no monster," Eldarion said. "We shall rest here tonight, and tomorrow either tell me, or journey on alone."  
  
After that, things changed. Neither of us spoke of our confrontation. It was as if we were just friends, on a journey together. Both of us went off to gather firewood. "Let's race," I suggested. "To see who can gather the most wood and be back at camp before dark sets in."  
  
"You're on!" Eldarion agreed, and we each ran in opposite directions. I gathered quickly, focusing on finding the right type of wood and being faster than Eldarion. Suddenly, I felt my load lighten. He had snatched the wood right out of my arms!  
  
"Cheater!" I cried, dropping the rest of my load and chasing after him. He reached our camp first, and dumped the wood on the ground, falling to his knees beside it and turning to face me. "You cheated!"  
  
"There were rules?" he asked innocently, picking up a few sticks and arranging them for a fire. "You should have told me that there were rules." A blaze sprang to life beneath his hands, I know not how. On the ground beside the blaze I sat, Eldarion next to me. Suddenly it occurred to me that I had forgotten something. What was it? "Here," Eldarion interrupted my thoughts, nudging me with some food.  
  
"Thanks," I replied, chewing. Now, with food in my hands, I realized just how hungry I was.  
  
After we ate, Eldarion and I rolled out our bedrolls and lay down next to each other. I was sleepy, I admit, and the lull of the fire and the calm night together put me in a more relaxed mood than I had been in for months. "Look," Eldarion said, his arm extended towards the stars. He moved it a bit, pointing. "There's the Great Hunter. See, his bow is visible tonight."  
  
"I don't see him," I admitted.  
  
"There," Eldarion said, taking my arm and pointing. Following his and my fingers, I did see the hunter. "Here, too, is the Beast he is chasing. See it there?" I told him that I did. "And the dipper, just there. Then there, the brightest star in all the heavens, in the dead north. See those there? Queen Berothial, Aralya calls them, and she says that the stars scattered about are her cats."  
  
Eldarion knew a lot about the stars. For perhaps another hour he talked, pointing out various constellations. All of them were new to me, and finally I asked him how he knew so much. "It is a strange story. A few years ago, I asked my father exactly what a star was. Aralya had asked me, and I didn't know. The answer to my question was that there are many stars, and no one knows exactly what they are, but there is lore to go with them. Every arrangement of stars has a name, and a story."  
  
"Did he tell you the star lore then?" I asked.  
  
"No, not then. It was later. . .I did not understand then, but looking back I see that this was one of those things there is a time and a place for. If we talk about the stars in the daytime, they lose their beauty at night. Perhaps a week after I had asked about the stars, I went up to the roof at night to see the stars shining out in all their majesty. It was that night that I learned about the stars."  
  
To this there was naught for me to say. It continued to amaze me, the involvement Aragorn had in the lives of his children. I suppose in my heart I had always know that Faramir and I had an unusual relationship, but the more I spoke to Eldarion the more I saw just how different we were. Eldarion, like his father, seemed to understand many things. Maybe, just maybe, if I told him about Faramir. . .maybe he would know what to do. 


	5. Sadness

    The knife…the knife…coming down at me.  I shrieked in pain as it hit me chest, and a stream of blood gushed out.  Faramir had a look of content on his face…a smile of joy that I was gone…

    I woke up suddenly, realizing it was still night, and I was outside with Eldarion.  My face was wet with tears, and I climbed out of the blankets and reached for a jug of water, wiping away all hint of tears.  I wanted to tell Eldarion the truth, but at the same time, I was scared.  Things could go wrong—or at least, worse than they were already.  They always did after all…

    I stretched, and watched the light gathering at the horizon, coming over the crest of a hill, touching the land with soft hands of light.  I sat on the grass, forgetting everything that had ever happened except grass and sky.  The dew on the grass wet my hair, and for a moment, watching the sun rising, I was content.

    "Menel?" Eldarion yawned, breaking my moment of bliss, and bringing me back to the real world.  "Want to eat before we continue?"

    "Oh yes!" I said, beginning to grab the pack of food.

    "By the way," he said through a mouthful of food, "We're going to Gondor.  For a time at least." He lowered his voice.  "Are you sure you want to go through with this?" he said, concern filling his voice.

    Tears begin welling in my eyes.

    "I'll take you back, Menel, no biggy." He said, hugging me.

    "Yes it is." I sobbed.  "I can't tell you, except that I can't go back."

    "What do you mean?" Eldarion said, worry filling his voice.  "Of course you can."

    "I-I'll tell you later." I said, rubbing my head.  "I…just want to go bathe in the stream now." I said, standing up slowly, tears blurring my vision.

Review responses:

Alynna:  Guess what, I hate to see Faramir like this too….he's so sweet in the book!!  Course, now that the movie's come out, I don't care anymore…look what they've done to him!!!  And hopefully by the end of the story, he'll come to understand, and be nice again…and as far as I know, Legolas and Glorfy aren't gonna be in this story…but hey, ya never know.

LadyofLegolas: Not that I know of…but maybe the Gondorian CIA knows…

EarthFaery: I connected that line to the same scene too… : P 

P.S. I apologize for the briefness of the chapter….


	6. In Which Eldarion Has a Plan

Disclaimer: Don't own. Only own Menel and Aralya.  
  
Author's Note: In this chapter, Menel is gong to do something a woman should never do: discuss her underclothes with a boy. The only reason for not doing this is that it makes them uncomfortable, for some odd reason (I just told a very nice male friend of mine about my new underclothes. He kind of freaked out. . .)  
  
Gollum: In chapter two, read the question that Aragorn asks Aralya. Objection, leading! (Even though that's your job)  
  
"You see you'd love to run home  
  
But you know you ain't got one"  
  
-The Goo Goo Dolls, Broadway  
  
Alynna Lis Eachann: That's what's called artistic license. Drives the purists nuts. Don't get me wrong, I totally loved Faramir in the books, I even wrote my LAUSD eighth-grade hero essay about him, but still, the movies don't have to be parallel to the books. Legolas actually might make an appearance, but probably not, and not Glorfindel because I hate him and will send Gollum as many forwards as there are Agent Smiths in Matrix Reloaded if she tries to include him.  
  
Lady of Legolas: Um. . .no comment. Gollum's business, not mine.  
  
Judy Greenleaf: Thanks. Who would you tell?  
  
*****  
  
"Menel? Can I come down?" Eldarion called. I was still by the stream, drying off. Quickly I pulled on my underclothes.  
  
"Yes!" I replied.  
  
"Are you. . ." he searched uncomfortably for the right word ". . .dressed?"  
  
"Partially!" I called up to him, hardly caring. I was practically his sister with all the time we spent together, so what if he saw me partially undressed? Faramir acted as though I was a mark of shame, but I had no such marks on my body, though there were many upon my heart. I paused, reflecting on this, my tunic hanging loosely from one hand. Eldarion seemed uncertain and did not come down to the stream, allowing me plenty of time for meditation as I donned my tunic and pants.  
  
"Your parents wanted me to take you to Rohan," Eldarion said as I came back to the campsite--or the remnants of it. "I was thinking about it last night and it is not right. If you wanted to go, that would be one thing, but this. . ." he broke eye contact, and muttered, "is exile."  
  
"It is not!" I shouted angrily. Perhaps my parents were not proud of me, but they would not send me from my home in such a manner. They would not exile me, they would not! Mother would never have it! It was untrue! But then why was I so upset? Because, of course, it was true. I was unwanted, homeless. I sank to my knees and covered my face, unable to bear it. This is what they meant for me, to feel the shame I have made them feel. And, feeling it, I realized that I did not deserve to live. Had Faramir killed me long ago it would not have been his own fault, but mine.  
  
"Menel! Hey, I didn't. . .it's all right," he said gently, awkwardly wrapping his arms around me and rubbing my back. When I stopped crying and finally met his eyes again, he said, "Listen, Menel. I have a plan, but it needs you to work. If you want, though, I will take you to Rohan. I planned to take you to Gondor, that was part of the plan. But--what do you want to do?"  
  
I swallowed hard. "Tell me your plan."  
  
"We go back to Gondor. There we can see if I am right about who your father is, and--"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Who do you think my father is?" I demanded. I didn't know, how was it fair that he knew?  
  
"I think. . .but I am not sure. . .that your father is Aragorn."  
  
I had not planned on going back to Gondor, but what could I say to that? I had to know. "All right. Let's ride." It was about an hour later that I thought to ask him, "How did you know?"  
  
"Servants talk. A lot. If you know how to listen," he explained. "And you asked me what a bastard is. You're a terrible liar."  
  
We reached the outer gates at dusk, then waited until nightfall to sneak back inside. "Why so much secrecy?" I asked quietly, but Eldarion would not answer. We stabled and untacked our horses in silence. "What now?" I asked him.  
  
"Home," he replied. How it was that we made it back to the seventh circle, and up to Eldarion's bedroom, without being observed I shall never know, but we did. Once there, he paused, listening, as though even then we were being watched. "Good. Now, Menel, give me your shirt, or one out of your pack." He had insisted that we carry our packs up to his room, and now I produced a shirt for him. He took it. "And. . .I need to cut your hand."  
  
"What?" I recoiled.  
  
"If I use my own blood, someone will see the laceration. Just. . .hold out your palm and look away," he suggested, I did so, closing my eyes tightly. I could hear the blade sing as he drew it from his sheath, then cut my flesh. "Don't cry out," he commanded, and I bit hard and whimpered. It did not hurt as he cut, but burned afterwards. Eldarion quickly rubbed my blood onto the shirt, then dunked my hand in a bowl of water. "Leave it there for a moment."  
  
"Why? You know it will not heal in water!" I was angry now. He had cut my flesh, ruined my favorite shirt, and would tell me nothing. As I watched he stabbed the shirt, then removed my hand from the bowl and placed the shirt within. He bandaged my hand and apologized.  
  
"If you hear anyone coming, Menel, I ant you to hide, all right?" he asked, getting to his feet.  
  
"All right." I assumed this was so no one would send me back to my mother and Faramir, but then, why the shirt? I received my answer when Eldarion met Aragorn in the hall just outside the door.  
  
"Eldarion? What are you doing here?"  
  
His voice quivered as he replied, "Lady Menel is dead." 


End file.
